Tortured Dreams
by Allyson
Summary: Set after 'Fool for Love'. Spike has a disturbing dream about his past.


**BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER – TORTURED DREAMS**

By Allyson.

Disclaimer - I do not own anything to do with Buffy the Vampire Slayer – this is just for fun - so don't sue!

A/N – This is set after S5 – '_Fool for Love'_ and bits have been borrowed from it.

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Dawn was bored.

It was pouring down with rain outside so she couldn't leave the house to meet Willow and Tara at Giles's Magic Shop. They had promised to show her one of their more recently self-taught spells and she had so wanted to see it. She hated the rain. It wasn't fair.

Suddenly, there came a frantic knocking on the door startling her out of her bad mood. Curiously, she went to the front door and opened it a crack.

"Who's there?" Buffy would kill her if she inadvertently invited anymore vampires in. Besides, she was alone in the house and the thunder and lightning were putting her on edge.

"Let me in, Dawn," came a familiar voice.

Dawn sighed in relief and annoyance.

"What do you want, Spike?" she asked, pulling the door open to reveal the soaking wet vampire, who glared at her through blood shot eyes.

"I haven't got all night, little girl," he growled. "Come on – I'm getting soaked."

"I don't care," replied Dawn, bravely. "Buffy said I wasn't to invite you in."

Spike looked angry and then saddened at her words.

"Fine," he responded, gruffly.

He moved away from where he had been leaning against the door frame and with a groan of pain began to stagger away. Dawn felt guilty as she watched him leave. Just as she was about to close the door, she saw Spike stumble down the stairs. He never got back on his feet.

"Spike?" she called out, tentatively, still not moving from the safety of the house. "Are you okay? Hey, stop kidding around."

Spike lay unmoving in a puddle at the foot of the porch stairs.

"Spike?" she called out again, this time in concern.

There was no response from him.

Only pausing for a second, Dawn rushed outside into the rain, flinching as cold water seeped through her clothes. She'd just made it to the bottom of the stairs when the sound of footsteps stopped her cold. Whipping her head around as she crouched defensively next to Spike's body, she saw Buffy coming up the path towards the house. Buffy saw both Dawn and Spike and rushed over to them.

"Dawn, what do you think you're doing?" her elder sister demanded. "I told you to stay away from Spike."

"But he's hurt," replied Dawn. "I didn't invite him in; he just collapsed."

"I've heard that before," muttered Buffy, but crouched down as well and moved Spike onto his back. Both girls reared back in revulsion at the sight of the single slash mark that ran down Spike's right-hand side between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his hip.

"Come on," prompted Buffy, grabbing his right arm and gesturing to Dawn to take the other side. "Let's get him inside."

Between the two of them, they dragged the unconscious Spike up the steps, into the house and placed him on the sofa. Dawn went in search of towels, bandages and a blanket, while Buffy went about taking off Spike's trademark duster and inspecting the wound.

"Will he be okay?" Dawn asked, as she re-entered the room and knelt down by the sofa.

"Only if I don't stake him before he wakes up," muttered Buffy, bitterly. She saw Dawn's upset expression and instantly regretted what she had said. "He'll be fine," she reassured, kindly. "Help me bandage him up and make him more comfortable. He can stay as long as he's unconscious but then he's out. Agreed?"

Dawn nodded and they set about helping Spike recover.

- -

_Spike was in hell._

_William was in emotional torment._

_How could the same thing keep happening to the same guy? Had he always been a fool for love? Or was it an after effect from the chip in his head? No, that couldn't be right. It had started years before then._

_First there had been William's first crush, Cecily, who had shunned his poetry and broken his heart. And now it was Buffy, Spike's own nemesis, who would rather stake him than admit any feelings for him. Harmony had been around for a short time but she didn't count. She was a convenience for him. An annoying one at that._

_The only person who had really loved him was Drusilla. Well, up until the point where she'd left him for a chaos demon._

_Spike was angry with the world._

_William was hurt and confused. Why didn't anyone want to stay with him?_

_Forbidden memories swirled into a whirlwind of bittersweet pain. Buried deep over the years they were an unwelcome upheaval. It started with William the Bloody's last ever poem as a mortal man._

'_My heart expands, 'Tis grown a bulge in it. Inspired by your beauty effulgent.'_

_William sat in an antechamber with the lady of his dreams. Cecily was beautiful and perfect in his eyes. The day she had found out about her presence in his poems was the day that would lead him to his death. Or un-death in his case. Her words, however, would haunt him forever._

"_I love you, Cecily," William had confessed that night._

_Cecily looked mortified. "Please stop!"_

"_I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man," he had stubbornly persisted, hoping against hope. "All I ask is that you try to see me-"_

"_I do! That's the problem," she interrupted. "You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me."_

_William felt like his heart had been crushed in a vice as all his hopes vanished as she left the room. She had treated him like an insolent fool and humiliated him in one sentence: "You're beneath me." In desperation he left the party, left the laughter directed towards him and went somewhere to be alone; tearing up his poems with every step._

_That's when fate brought him together with Drusilla. What he didn't know then was that the encounter would change his life forever._

_She found him in an alleyway, of all places._

"_And I wonder what possible catastrophe came crashing down from Heaven and brought this stranger to tears," Drusilla enquired, as she approached him._

"_Nothing," responded William, trying to ignore her. "I wish to be alone."_

"_I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength. His vision. His glory," she continued, mysteriously. "That and burning baby fish swimming around your head."_

_William stood quickly from where he'd been sitting and backing away from her. The young lady was clearly quite mad._

"_Err, that's close enough," he warned her, as he backed up against the wall. "I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You won't be getting my purse, I can tell you."_

"_Don't need a purse," Drusilla smiled at him. Touching his chest gently where his heart was and then his temple, she continued, "Your wealth lies here . . . and here." She looked at him coyly. "In the spirit and . . . imagination. You walking worlds the others cannot begin to imagine."_

_William was memorized by Drusilla's beauty and felt his skin tingle at her touch. "Oh, yes," he murmured, looking deep into those hypnotic eyes. "Err, I mean, no. I mean, Mother's expecting me."_

_He made no move to leave though. He didn't want to leave at all. There was just something about this lady that made William want to stay with her forever. _

"_I see what you want," she told him, stepping closer to him. "Something glowing and glistening. Something . . . effulgent."_

_William looked at her in shock and admiration. "Effulgent?" he managed to whisper back._

_Drusilla reached up and moved his chin to get his full attention. "Do you want it?"_

"_Oh, yes," murmured William, with feeling. Drusilla took his hand and placed it on her chest, never taking her eyes from his. "God, yes."_

_Drusilla looked seductively down to his hand before looking back at him. Her beautiful features had changed to that of a blood thirsty vampire. Instead of screaming in horror, William just stared at her in fascination. She was still the most beautiful and intoxicating creature he had ever seen._

_At that moment, time stopped and the lights faded around William._

_Being a vampire had been fun for a hundred or so years but then it had begun to breakdown around him. Buffy Summers, The Vampire Slayer, was to blame for Drusilla leaving Spike. And she still continued to haunt him._

"_Every day you wake up to the same bloody question that haunts you. Is today the day I'm gonna die?_

"_Death is on your heels, Baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you. And part of you wants it. Not only to stop the future uncertainty but just because you're just a little bit in love with it._

"_Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know. What's it like? Where does it lead you?_

"_Oh, now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you can throw or the kicks you can vent. She knew you wanted it._

"_Every Slayer has a death wish._

"_Even you._

"_The only reason that you've lasted this long as you have is you've got ties to the world. You're Mum, brat kid sister, Scoobies. They all tie you here. But you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later you're going to want it. And the second–"_

_Spike smacked his hands together in front of Buffy's face. He had her complete attention now. Any other activity in the alleyway behind The Bronze had faded away as she stared back at him with a steely glare._

"_-The second that happens, you know I'll be there," he continued, moving closer to her. "I'll slip in and have myself a real good day."_

_Buffy's eyes were cold. "Get out of my sight, Spike. Now."_

"_Ohh, what, did I scare you?" baited Spike, raising an eyebrow. "You're the Slayer, do something about it. Hit me. Go on, one good swing. You know you want to."_

"_I mean it," she insisted, through gritted teeth._

"_So do I." Spike taunted her. "Give it me good, Buffy. Do it!"_

"_Spike," warned the Slayer, her patience slipping. _

_Spike couldn't help himself. She was beautifully tempting even when she was angry at him. He bent down to kiss her but Buffy moved swiftly away, shock and disgust evident in her face._

"_What the hall are you doing?" she demanded._

_Spike grabbed her by the shoulders. He was angry with himself for slipping up and angry at Buffy for her reaction towards him._

"_Come on," he growled. "I can feel it, Slayer. You know you wanna dance."_

"_Say it's true," replied Buffy, after a moment. "Say I do want to." She pushed him to the ground roughly in disgust, taking Spike off guard. "It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you."_

_Spike looked up at her from where he lay in shock. Her words had cut deeper into his feelings than he cared to admit to himself. He had a fleeting sensation of deja-vu before dread settled into the bottom of his stomach. He knew what she was about to say before she opened her mouth . . . and it hurt. Badly._

"_You're beneath me."_

- -

Buffy re-entered the room to find Dawn had fallen asleep at last. She sat huddled against the sofa, her head lying against Spike's arm. Spike still lay two hours later unconscious on the Summer's sofa, with his wound neatly bandaged up. Buffy grudgingly allowed herself to feel a little sorry for the vampire. Asleep, he could almost pass as an innocent being. She banished the thought away with a shake of her head. No way would she go down that path.

Spike suddenly bolted into an upright position, jostling Dawn awake, and taking a panicked ragged breath.

"Oh my God," he muttered, shaken.

"Spike?" asked Dawn, in surprise.

Buffy also recovered from her initial shock and stepped further into the room. Spike suddenly seemed to remember his wound and bent over slightly with a grimace.

"How are you feeling?" Dawn asked him, worried.

Spike stared at her as he realized he wasn't still lying in a puddle outside but in a warm room surrounded by the Slayer and her kid sister.

"What happened?" he asked, confused.

"I think you got into a fight because you collapsed outside the house wounded," Dawn filled him in. "Don't you remember?"

Spike nodded, faintly.

"Look, Spike," said Buffy, obviously not about to enjoy what she was about to say. "You're welcome to stay here until you're stronger, if you'd like. But after that, it's back to normal, you're out of here."

Spike looked at her. Disturbed memories of his past haunted him as he realized Buffy was pitying him. He tried to be angry at her but she'd hurt his feelings too much for him to make the effort.

"No, I can't be here," he said, throwing the blanket off him and staggering to his feet. Doing his best to block out the pain that lanced through his side, he gently shook off Dawn's grip as she moved to help him and grabbed his duster from a nearby chair. "I don't want pity. I can take care of myself. Move out of my way, Slayer."

Stunned, Buffy moved to one side, allowing Spike to limp towards the door. Dawn went to go after him, but Buffy stopped her with a restrained hand on her arm. At the last moment as he was opening the door, Spike hesitated and looked back at Buffy and Dawn.

"I won't forget this," he said, ominously.

He left leaving Buffy and Dawn staring silently at the closing front door, thinking over his words.

The rain continued to pour down outside.

Spike was still in Hell.

And William still waded in emotional torment.

THE END.


End file.
